


What Should Have Been

by captainyourstruly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainyourstruly/pseuds/captainyourstruly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the fight with the Dread Doctors comes to a close, Stiles and the pack are on the losing side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Should Have Been

Not for the first time, their plan failed. This time, there was no coming back. The final plan to defeat the Dread Doctors had only been half conceived, at best, but Scott, Stiles and Lydia had run out of time. Liam and Hayden were kidnapped first. Then, Kira walked out on them. Mason, Brett and Theo disappeared soon after. Beacon Hills High shut down because a quarter of the student population had gone missing. Malia being taken was the breaking point. Screw the plan, screw being smart. They were out of options.

So Scott, Stiles, and Lydia took on the Dread Doctors by themselves and they failed. That was what Stiles realized, lying on the cement floor, breathing the rank odor of human shit and watching the pool of blood surrounding him spread. 

As he stared, Scott fought against two chimeras who had pinned him up against an electrified fence. Blue sparks flew from Scott’s body as Theo slashed at his stomach. Scott was roaring, wolf-features still plain on his face, but the alpha red in his eyes was flickering.

If their situation wasn’t so dire, Stiles would have gloated that, once again, he had been right about Theo all along.

Summoning whatever strength he had left, Stiles pushed himself onto his knees, realizing but not really caring that he couldn’t feel his legs. The effort made his arms shake. Looking past Scott, he caught sight of Liam, half buried under bodies piled haphazardly on the other side of the fence. Apparently the Dread Doctors had created more bodies than they could bury. Liam still had the wolf snarl on his face, but his open eyes were blank. 

Unable to stop himself, Stiles retched.

“Stiles look out!” Lydia screamed. It was too loud, too close. Stiles’ hands flew to cover his ears. He didn’t realize what Lydia said until a foot connected with his ribs and one cracked. Black spots like flies crowded Stiles’ vision and he howled in pain, the force of the kick sending him sprawling.

Stiles tried to catch his breath but every inhale caused searing pain. He felt like he was choking. The feeling became a reality when a cane pressed down on his windpipe. Stiles gasped, his hands locking on the cane.

The Doctor stared down at him, its head tilted to the side. More weight pushed on the cane. “Inconsequential.”

Stiles was suffocating now and nothing he did moved the cane. The black spots in his vision solidified into a mist. Ever since his mom, Stiles had spent his life avoiding thinking about death, from becoming obsessed with death. This was worse than any death he had ever imagined. Not only was he going to die, but his friends, the people he cared about, were all either dead or dying. And dying like this hurt like hell.

Stiles saw, not felt, his arms fall to the ground before his head lolled to the side. As if through a fog, he saw Lydia staring at him, her copper hair tumbling over the stretcher she was strapped to. Her eyes bored into his, tears leaving streaks through the blood spattered on her face and he remembered the last time she had looked at him like that. He had woken up in a tunnel to find her head buried in his chest, sobs echoing off the walls after she felt her best friend die. 

They had realized, then, their own fragility. Sure, other people died, but never them. Not the pack. The four of them were supposed to survive everything. Scott and Allison were supposed to get married, as soon as they could after high school. Stiles and Lydia, of course, would wait until after college and after Lydia had won her first Fields Medal. They would be the best men and maids of honor at each other’s weddings. They would be godparents to each other’s kids. They had it all planned out. But that was before Allison. And before Stiles started dating Malia. 

But here, in his last seconds, all he could think about was Lydia. Lydia smiling up at him, a veil pushed back to show her green eyes, strawberry blonde hair turned a fiery red in the sunlight, and all he could think was how happy he was to marry her. He saw their first child, newborn Claudia, crying as she was handed back to Lydia, and not believing he could ever be any happier. He saw the three of them, relaxing on a beach in a sunny island somewhere, toddler Claudia and her uncle Scott building a sandcastle that kept sliding down, a very pregnant Lydia under a blue umbrella with her feet in the sand, and he marveled at how wonderful his life had become. He saw himself surprising Lydia at work, her dressed in a white lab coat, him in his sheriff’s uniform, fine wrinkles looking as natural as the freckles on her face and as she kissed him hello, he wondered how he had ever gotten lucky enough for a woman as brilliant as Lydia to fall in love with him. Finally he saw them old, grey hair and in rocking chairs on the porch of the house they had built together some 50 years ago. He saw their family surrounding them, happy and laughing and playing in the sun, without a speck of darkness touching their lives. 

More importantly, he saw Lydia. He saw the turmoil and heartbreak they had survived together and how it had brought them closer. He saw her smile and the peace that found her face only in sleep. He saw his love for her and her love for him. He saw their future. If only it hadn’t taken him until now to realize it. 

His chest jerked once, in protest, before his vision blacked out and he stopped breathing.


End file.
